


Snowpack

by hazelandglasz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Full Shift Werewolves, Fun, M/M, Snow, Winter, Wolf Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 17:24:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2701163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine your OTP looking out of the window after a night of what was supposed to have been the heaviest snow in months, and being incredibly disappointed.</p><p>Person B, who was really excited to go outside and have a snowball fight, sulks and flops down on the couch, putting on a TV show. When Person A doesn’t plop down right next to them after about 5 minutes, Person B starts to wonder what they’re up to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowpack

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fluffy drabble for the 12 Days Of Sterek, because who doesn't like some fluffy, wintery fics with our favorite assholes ;)

From the moment the weather reports shows a map covered in snowflakes, Stiles closes his eyes.

Because while Derek is not very outgoing with his feelings at most time, he has an unbridled passion for snow--particularly since he has reached a new level in his wolfiness (Stiles has to stop telling Derek that he’s a Pokemon, it’s not going to end well) and he can bury his muzzle in the white coat and swipes at it with his fluffy tail.

Because Derek is a fluffy wolf, particularly so in the winter, and while Stiles doesn’t particularly share his boyfriend’s passion for congealed rain, he can appreciate some of it through Derek’s happiness.

Like walking besides him, his footsteps and Derek’s pawsteps muffled by the thick coat of snow, his fingerless gloved-hands buried in the thickest fur on Derek’s neck.

Like letting Derek trick him into falling on his ass--never to hurt him, just to play--before slamming his big muzzle on Stiles’s chest, his cold nose brushing against Stiles’s chin and his paws on Stiles’s shoulders.

Yes, Stiles can admit that those are some fine benefits from a cold weather.

Especially when it’s followed by the two of them rushing back inside, him taking his clothes of and Derek shaking the snow out of his black fur before wolfing down, standing in all his naked glory before pulling Stiles closer, cold against warm and his boyfriend proceeds to change the temperature of Stiles’s body.

From exterior cold to boiling hot, and he generally manages to pull it off in less than 10 minutes.

And the forecast announces the heaviest, biggest snowstorm to hit Beacon Hills and its surrounding area during the night, which could exclaim the sparkle in Derek’s eyes and the unbelieving smile on his face as he pushes the cover the next morning, followed closely by Stiles.

... Only for the two of them to look dejectedly at the snowless expanse of their backyard.

Stiles puts his hand on the small of Derek’s back, but the werewolf barely huffs at the window before stalking out of the room.

If Stiles knows him at all, Derek is probably sitting in a ball on the couch, Stiles’s hoodie wrapped carelessly around his torso while he feigns interest at a neuron-killing reality TV show.

Stiles peeks at the clock he has on his nightstand--it’s going to be either “Keeping up with the Kardashians” (Derek has a fascination for the shallowness of it all) or “Masterchef” if Derek really feels like he has been betrayed by the weather.

_“Show some finesse.”_

Wow, Masterchef it is.

But Stiles has a back-up plan--when doesn’t he have one, though--and he sneaks down to the basement.

\---

Derek wouldn’t be able to tell you what kind of recipes are being cooked on screen.

Hell, he wouldn’t even been able to tell you what ingredients are being used or whether it’s a rerun of an old episode or a new one.

He’s sulking, and sulking, Hale style, requires a lot of energy--particularly to keep the sulk from turning into a full grump. Stiles would never let it go.

Harumph.

Speaking of his annoying and comfortable boyfriend, where is he?

Usually, when Derek sulks on the couch, Stiles finds his way between Derek’s body and the couch to hug him, forcing Derek in the part of the little spoon and Derek finds some comfort in the warmth of him and the strength he exudes when his long arms are around Derek’s torso, freezing him in place until he feels better.

But it’s already been five--no, ten minutes, a commercial break just started--and Stiles is nowhere to be seen, and as much as Derek can smell him in the hoodie he borrowed, it’s just not the same.

Derek looks away from the television he was not even watching, checking for the location of his boyfriend.

Who seems to be in the basement and reeks of gleeful mischief, the little asshole.

“Stiles?” he calls, more to warn Stiles that this is so not the right day to miss with him, standing up from the couch and letting the hoodie sag a little around his shoulders, the hem of the sleeves covering his hands.

A giggle is his only reply--and his only warning--before all he can feel and think is …

 _Cold_.

His fangs are out before he can fully comprehend what is happening, before a second snowball hits him in the ear--yeesh, his pointy werewolf ears are sensitive.

“Stiles?!”

Another raucous laugh, before Stiles peeks from around the door frame, an icebox in his hand while the other carries a snowball.

And the icebox is filled with snow.

“I packed it last year,” Stiles says, playing with the snowball in his hand. “Just in case this winter was not as generous in crystallized wat--Derek put me down!”

But Derek is already carrying Stiles over his shoulder, icebox and all, to go outside. Snow is supposed to be an outdoor pleasure.

And he’ll consider indoor ones later, to thank Stiles for this early Christmas present.


End file.
